down on paper before she forgot some of the more subtle nuances of the altercation. In her opinion, it hadn’t been serious enough to bother Duncan with right away, so she’d decided to wait until this evening to update him on the situation.
She was half tempted to advise him to kick Big Tom and his cronies out, but then what? They’d be nothing more than zombie bait. They’d never last out there. More and more she tried to put herself in their shoes and knew if she were stuck downstairs without getting to see the sun or sky, she’d probably start going a little stir-crazy, too.
Maybe that’s why she’d been more conciliatory than she had at their last meeting, because Big Tom, while he’d been his normal belligerent, obnoxious self as he’d spouted off about making deals with a bunch of devils, hadn’t tried to hit her this time. She had a feeling if he had, Atticus wouldn’t have let it go a second time. He’d been coldly furious when he’d learned that Big Tom had hit her a couple of weeks ago, going even stiffer with rage as the bruise on her face had shown in black and deep purple with shades of blue. Now it was a mottled green and yellow that she could mostly cover up with foundation.
Nevertheless, Atticus usually took a close look at her cheek whenever they got together for her weekly donation of blood to him. She closed her fingers around her forearm, thinking of the carnal pain caused by his bite and the suction of his mouth as he fed, the way he made the pain fade into sensual pleasure so great she almost had an orgasm every time.
A knock came at her door. She rose to her feet and padded barefoot to the door. A quick peek through the peephole brought Atticus into view. Speak of the devil. Or one of them, anyway.
She opened the door. He stood there, feet braced slightly apart. Big, broad, and sexy. In a moment when she’d felt so alone, so abandoned, she’d thought about deepening their relationship, but that idea had evaporated like rainwater in the desert as soon as Aodhán had come back. “I thought you’d be in bed already.” She stood back to let Atticus into her apartment. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. Coffee, tea, me? She bit back a giggle and wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It was only Atticus, after all. But there was a look in those silver eyes of his that told her she might not like what he’d come to say.
After he took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head to get a better look at the fading bruises on her face, he gave a satisfied nod and released her. “Let’s sit down,” he said, and motioned toward the sofa in the small living room.
She took a seat and waited for him to speak. When he sat beside her and stared at his hands, clasped between his spread knees, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s going on?” She stared at him, her pulse picking up speed. She’d never seen this self-possessed man seem so hesitant before.
He looked up, and she gasped at the misery written in the lines of his face. He shifted to face her and took her hands in his. With his thumbs sweeping gently across her knuckles, he murmured, “I know how you feel about Aodhán.” When she opened her mouth, he tightened his fingers and gave her that look that meant Shut up and let me talk . “I’ve always known, but I took advantage of his absence and persuaded you into our agreement.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me, Atticus,” she assured him. “I wanted to help you.”
He nodded. “You have a kind, generous heart, Natalie.” His thumbs started stroking her knuckles again. “And it belongs to Aodhán. So I release you from our agreement.”
For once everything this taciturn vampire felt was clear to see in his eyes, on his drawn face. He looked sad. Heartbroken.
Dear. God. He was in love with her. How had she missed that?
“Atticus…”
He squeezed her hands gently, released them, and got to his feet.
She was half tempted to advise him to kick Big Tom and his cronies out, but then what? They’d be nothing more than zombie bait. They’d never last out there. More and more she tried to put herself in their shoes and knew if she were stuck downstairs without getting to see the sun or sky, she’d probably start going a little stir-crazy, too.
Maybe that’s why she’d been more conciliatory than she had at their last meeting, because Big Tom, while he’d been his normal belligerent, obnoxious self as he’d spouted off about making deals with a bunch of devils, hadn’t tried to hit her this time. She had a feeling if he had, Atticus wouldn’t have let it go a second time. He’d been coldly furious when he’d learned that Big Tom had hit her a couple of weeks ago, going even stiffer with rage as the bruise on her face had shown in black and deep purple with shades of blue. Now it was a mottled green and yellow that she could mostly cover up with foundation.
Nevertheless, Atticus usually took a close look at her cheek whenever they got together for her weekly donation of blood to him. She closed her fingers around her forearm, thinking of the carnal pain caused by his bite and the suction of his mouth as he fed, the way he made the pain fade into sensual pleasure so great she almost had an orgasm every time.
A knock came at her door. She rose to her feet and padded barefoot to the door. A quick peek through the peephole brought Atticus into view. Speak of the devil. Or one of them, anyway.
She opened the door. He stood there, feet braced slightly apart. Big, broad, and sexy. In a moment when she’d felt so alone, so abandoned, she’d thought about deepening their relationship, but that idea had evaporated like rainwater in the desert as soon as Aodhán had come back. “I thought you’d be in bed already.” She stood back to let Atticus into her apartment. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. Coffee, tea, me? She bit back a giggle and wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It was only Atticus, after all. But there was a look in those silver eyes of his that told her she might not like what he’d come to say.
After he took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head to get a better look at the fading bruises on her face, he gave a satisfied nod and released her. “Let’s sit down,” he said, and motioned toward the sofa in the small living room.
She took a seat and waited for him to speak. When he sat beside her and stared at his hands, clasped between his spread knees, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s going on?” She stared at him, her pulse picking up speed. She’d never seen this self-possessed man seem so hesitant before.
He looked up, and she gasped at the misery written in the lines of his face. He shifted to face her and took her hands in his. With his thumbs sweeping gently across her knuckles, he murmured, “I know how you feel about Aodhán.” When she opened her mouth, he tightened his fingers and gave her that look that meant Shut up and let me talk . “I’ve always known, but I took advantage of his absence and persuaded you into our agreement.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me, Atticus,” she assured him. “I wanted to help you.”
He nodded. “You have a kind, generous heart, Natalie.” His thumbs started stroking her knuckles again. “And it belongs to Aodhán. So I release you from our agreement.”
For once everything this taciturn vampire felt was clear to see in his eyes, on his drawn face. He looked sad. Heartbroken.
Dear. God. He was in love with her. How had she missed that?
“Atticus…”
He squeezed her hands gently, released them, and got to his feet.
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